


Lovely

by Snowy_Owl00



Series: Musical One-Shots [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Infinity War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Owl00/pseuds/Snowy_Owl00
Summary: Isn’t it lovelyAll aloneHeart made of glassMy mind of stone.Tear me to piecesSkin to boneHelloWelcome home.





	Lovely

It was an undeniable fact that not a single person came back from the snap the same. Out of the Avengers, Peter was the worst affected. 

He had very real memories of dying. Most of the other Avengers were lucky enough to have had those memories blocked out from the shock. Bucky came back with absolutely no memories of the entire event. 

As usual, this night Peter woke up screaming. He was almost used to the night terrors. Almost. 

The room was pitch black and Peter felt an anxiety attack rattle through his body. This was what being dead was like. It was never ending liquid darkness. 

The silence roared like a lion. 

This was what being dead was like. 

“K-Karen, hit the lights.” He whispered, voice stuttering amidst his troubled breathing. The lights immediately turned on, washing the room in a warm, yellow-tinted light. 

Peter’s widened eyes darted across the room. He wasn’t dead anymore. He had to remember that. He wasn’t dead. He was sitting on his bed, in his room at the Avengers tower. 

Not dead. 

Still, his breathing was so rapid and forced that hardly any air entered his lungs, reminding him of his asthma attacks from childhood. Instinctively, he reached out to the night table for his nebulizer, only to remember he didn’t have one anymore. 

Peter’s hands shook like leaves rustled by the wind as he reached up and brushed his hair out of his face. His fingertips brushed against the sides of his temple, trying to alleviate the throbbing pain. He closed his eyes, and groaned softly. He could never return to normal. 

“Kid, you alright?” 

Peter looked up at the sound of his door swinging open and Tony’s concerned voice. He didn’t know it, but he looked like a wreck. His face had a slight sheen from sweat and his cheeks were flushed like a cherry. 

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, eyes down at his hands, which were clenching the sheets. “It was just a bad dream.”

“Karen told me you were having an anxiety attack. You don’t look fine.” Tony crossed his arms and neared the bed, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk?”

Peter shrugged off Tony’s hand. “For some reason, my lights were on. Kinda freaked me out, but I’ll be fine.”

Tony never wanted to hear the word “fine” come from Peter’s lips again. 

The cheerful, eager teenager was gone. Now, Peter was much more closed off. He didn’t talk much to the other teammates, and rarely spent time in the common room. In fact, most of his time was spent in his room. 

“Hey Karen. Why were the lights out?” Tony asked, taking a seat on the foot of this kid’s bed. Whether the teenager liked it or not, they needed to talk about these night terrors. They had put it off long enough. 

“Checking footage.” Karen replied, a moment passing before she found the answer. “Steven Rogers checked on Peter at 11:45 and turned the lights off.” 

Tony nodded. “Listen kid, it’s been plain as day to everyone here that you’ve not been okay lately.” And that was true. Nat asked after him all the time, a concerned expression slipping through her usually stony face. Bucky had developed a soft spot for the young teen as well, finding that he was very similar to Steve back in the day. It was actually Bucky that had suggested Peter move into the Avengers tower. 

“I wanted to give you a little privacy with all those nightmares, but it’s gone on long enough. Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling?” Tony’s eyes watched Peter carefully, trying to detect what exactly he was feeling. 

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s no big deal.” Just by looking at his face, one could know he was lying. Even his mumbling voice was unbelievable. 

“Peter.” Tony said firmly, his voice suddenly becoming stern. 

Peter’s eyes snapped up, meeting Tony’s unwavering gaze. His young face crumbled and he hugged his own torso tightly. 

“I’m— I don’t know. I’m cold. Always so, so cold and so, well, numb. I can’t feel anything. I don’t know, I just, and then all these dreams.” His voice stumbled and tripped over itself, hardly making sense.

But it was true. He was cold. Not physically, but on the inside. It didn’t matter how many jackets he put on, his insides felt like ice. 

“I wish I could forget it. Dying and being dead.” Peter muttered softly, clenching his fists. Every time he thought about that moment, he clenched his fists to make sure that the rest of his body wasn’t dust. 

Tony’s faze fell to the floor, his heart racing and his fingers drumming against the mattress. No kid should have to deal with the memories of dying. 

Almost every time he thought about that day, Tony would have a panic attack. Sometimes, he would just be sitting in his office, signing something, and it would come to mind. Then he would be hyperventilating and trying to focus on his breathing. 

“I wish you could forget it, too.” Tony’s voice wobbled and he swore under his breath. Didn’t want to break down when he was supposed to be the strong one today. He cleared his throat. “How many of these attacks have you been having?” 

Peter paused, not wanting to answer. “One yesterday, at lunch. Then the day before when I was visiting Aunt May. Then another one during the fire drill at school. Then, well, there’s been a lot.” Peter's face burned in shame. He equated these attacks with weakness. 

Tony shifted on the bed. “Listen, lemme tell you a breathing trick I learned from Rhodey. When you’ve got an attack and you feel like you can’t calm down, inhale for five seconds. Hold it for six and exhale for seven. I can’t tell you how many time I’ve used that little trick.” Tony sighed, hating the very fact that the boy was having these anxiety attacks. 

“But I don’t want to learn to cope, I want them to stop.” Peter complained in a melancholy voice, hands still clenching the sheets. 

“You know, I started having anxiety attacks after the battle at New York. That was five years ago, and I still get them. It doesn’t make you weak, or any less of a person. And I’m not going to tell you some bullshit. You’re never going to be the same as you used to be, but that doesn't mean you can’t recover.” 

Tony reached over and patted Peter’s shoulder, saying, “It might not be today or tomorrow, but you’ll get there. One day, you’ll be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I think I’ve realized that I’m going to be writing a lot about Peter Parker. I love him so much!
> 
> So, today’s music based fic is inspired by “Lovely” by Billie Eilish ft. Khalid. This is a real favorite of mine, and I really recommend this song. There’s a very somber mood to it, and the strings and piano really add to the feeling. 
> 
> Here’s a link: https://youtu.be/V1Pl8CzNzCw


End file.
